I’m very happy to see TRUMP signs appearing around town .

Because now every time I see one of these:

Trump_2016

I’ll be armed with a bunch of these:

CAN EAT MY POO

 

So the town will soon covered with these:

Trump_2016

Yes, I’m a ridiculous, childish person. Yes, I actually ordered this sticker. You can too,here. 

Please note, I will earn 20 cents for each sticker sold. I intend to use this money to build a BYOOTIFUL WALL to keep the kids out when I’m trying to go to the bathroom.

Can American writers write happy endings?

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The British get Tom Jones and Dickens and Shakespeare’s comedies, but what do we Americans get? Death and sadness, that’s what — at least in literature.

Are there American novels with happy endings? Here’s our list . . .

Read the rest at the Register.

I’m reading, I’m watching, I’m listening to . . .

I’m reading . . .

Zorro by Isabel Allende.

zorro

Allende is definitely a guilty pleasure. Zorro is silly fun, very typical of Allende, with her contemptuous fondness for Catholicism, the silly sex scenes mashed naively in with a kind of lascivious clumsy feminism, a few plot turns that don’t make any sense and quietly get abandoned, and lots of running around, sailing, fighting, crying, eating, singing, being squalid, and more running around. I like the bouncy, tasty prose, and her characters are always memorable.  So sue me.

I’m watching . . .

The Sopranos for the first time.

Sopranos_ep211b

image source

Damien is a few seasons ahead of me, but is watching along with me on Amazon Prime. This show blows my mind every single episode. It’s super violent, and we have to look away during the sex scenes, but the writing and acting are even more brilliant than everyone said. Probably the best TV I’ve ever seen in my life. Every episode leaves me something to think about, and funny, oh my gosh.

DO NOT TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS. I’M ONLY ON SEASON THREE.

I’m listening to . . .

Jessye Norman singing Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde.

Mahler,-detail,-JihlavaJan-Koblasa,-Gustav-

 

By NoJin (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

I honestly thought I didn’t like Jessye Norman, but hoo boy. We were driving home from Philly and I dozed off in the back seat, and this came on the radio sometime during interminable Connecticut. That woke me up! Here is “Der Abschied” (“The Farewell”)

From Wikipedia:

Three personal disasters befell Mahler during the summer of 1907. Political maneuvering and anti-semitism forced him to resign his post as Director of the Vienna Court Opera, his eldest daughter Maria died from scarlet fever and diphtheria, and Mahler himself was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect. “With one stroke,” he wrote to his friend Bruno Walter, “I have lost everything I have gained in terms of who I thought I was, and have to learn my first steps again like a newborn”.[3]

A translation of the words:

The sun departs behind the mountains.
In all the valleys the evening descends
with its shadow, full cooling.
O look! Like a silver boat sails
the moon in the watery blue heaven.
I sense the fine breeze stirring
behind the dark pines.
The brook sings out clear through the darkness.
The flowers pale in the twilight.
The earth breathes, in full rest and sleep.
All longing now becomes a dream.
Weary men traipse homeward
to sleep; forgotten happiness
and youth to rediscover.
The birds roost silent in their branches.
The world falls asleep.
It blows coolly in the shadows of my pines.
I stand here and wait for my friend;
I wait to bid him a last farewell.
I yearn, my friend, at your side
to enjoy the beauty of this evening.
Where are you? You leave me long alone!
I walk up and down with my lute
on paths swelling with soft grass.
O beauty! O eternal loving-and-life-bedrunken world!
He dismounted and handed him the drink
of Farewells. He asked him where
he would go and why must it be.
He spoke, his voice was quiet. Ah my friend,
Fortune was not kind to me in this world!
Where do I go? I go, I wander in the mountains.
I seek peace for my lonely heart.
I wander homeward, to my abode!
I’ll never wander far.
Still is my heart, awaiting its hour.
The dear earth everywhere blossoms in spring and grows green
anew! Everywhere and forever blue is the horizon!
Forever … Forever …

Adult American novels with happy endings?

book-863418_1280

My teenage daughter is looking for good novels or short stories for a school project. It has to be an American author (per her teacher) and — here’s the hard part — it has to have a happy ending (per her).

My suggestions:

Flannery O’Connor.  Okay, no happy endings, sometimes tragic, but not depressing, anyway! We got a little bit into how the bull in “Greenleaf” is Jesus — well, not Jesus, exactly, but — well, you know how Zeus was always . . . well, you know? (Little kids in the room.) And, see, this old woman put up all these hedges, and she never . . .well . . . (but there were too many little kids in the room). See, it’s not an allegory, or an exact code, but how themes in literature work is . . . what are they teaching you in English, anyway? Go to bed, I’m tired.

Walter M. Miller. I urged Canticle for Leibowitz, but as I sketched out the plot, her glower got heavier and heavier. I was like, “See, history is cyclical, and at least this time around, they have a plan! They survive! You’ll love it, because the Catholics save the day! Well, kind of . . . ”

His short stories are tremendous, though, and should be better known. “Cruxifixus Etiam” is amazing. (collected in The View from the Stars)

James Thurber. Probably actually way way darker than anyone else on this list, if you read closely.

Edith Wharton? She’s great, but yeesh.

I also suggested The Space Merchants by C. M. Kornbluth and Frederik Pohl, but it’s so dated, I dunno. Happy ending, pretty much. Literary merit, sure, why not. Weird and funny.

I guess there’s Mark Twain. Do you know I’ve never read Tom Sawyer. Should I? I loved Huckleberry Finn.

Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler? Well, they make me happy.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is pretty good, and comes pretty close to having a happy ending, but the rest of Betty Smith’s books are barely readable. She really shot the wad with the semi-autobiography.

Faulkner? She’s too young, and he doesn’t exactly tend to tie up his endings with a happy bow anyway.
Hemingway? Big fat meh, sorry.
Melville she would hate.
I think she likes Edgar Allen Poe, but they already read a lot of him in class.
Stephen King? Apparently a nice fellow, but why does this man have a literary career?
Henry James doesn’t get to be American.
Robert Penn Warren is another one-hit wonder with All the King’s Men, which I was obsessed with for a while, but now I can’t think why. I read a few other of his novels and couldn’t believe how trashy they were. His novels read like bad poetry, and his poems read like outlines for novels. Feh.

I could make a case for Walker Percy, maybe, but she’s a bit young. Anyway we’re living Love In the Ruins right now, so who needs to read about it?

Who am I forgetting? Help us out! Remember: American, moderately happy ending, some literary merit!

***

Your family is not your brand

kid in mask

Even a family that is nuts doesn’t fit into a nutshell. Families are too complicated for that.

Read the rest at the Register. 

What’s for supper? Vol. 6: In which we enjoy the World Meeting of Families by eating

whats for supperWe took the baby and drove to Philadelphia on Thursday, so I could speak at the World Meeting of Families on Friday. Philadelphia, it turns out, is far away, and it takes a long time to drive there. The baby thought this was bullshit, even despite the crackers and rice rusks and wagon wheel puffs we kept throwing at the back seat. We have decided that next time we decide to drive to Philadelphia with a baby, we will change our minds, and not. Anyway, here is what we had this past week, before, during, and after our adventure:

SUNDAY FROZEN PIZZA AND ICE CREAM

Sunday we went apple pickingcorrie appleswith my parents, my sister Rosie and her family, and my brother Jacob and his family.apple orchard familyLovely day! Long ride home, frozen pizzas hit the spot.

MONDAY ZUPPA TOSCANA AND PUMPKIN BREAD

This was one of those days where I kept on finishing up some task and then saying, “Okay, NOW I can get started on supper,” and then the phone would ring and I would have to throw the kids in the car and drive around for another forty minutes. As a result, I rushed and scrambled and screwed both recipes up six different ways, but they both survived, and will both stay on the rotation. The Zuppa Toscana is one of those Olive Garden copycat recipes. I didn’t have any bacon for the soup, and used half and half instead of cream, but it was still mighty tasty. I bought sausage in casings and squeezed the meat out, blushing heavily the whole time.zuppa toscanaHere’s the pumpkin bread recipe. I foolishly tripled the recipe, which was way too much even for us. It made two loaves, a dozen muffins, and a giant casserole, plus a bunch of batter that I just lapped up like the hungry, batter-eating dog that I am. Here’s a picture of Benny helping me make this recipe a year ago, when I had my shit much more together:

benny-muffins

She was saying, “Look at me, Mama! I greatest.”

In the blog post where this photo appeared, I said:

Today we were short a few eggs, so we just mushed up a couple of bananas in their place. Sometimes I put demerara sugar on top, sometimes I add wheat germ, sometimes I add walnuts, almonds, or (to everyone’s chagrin) raisins, but mostly I just make the recipe as is — except I double it, which yields 24 muffins and two loaves. They are lovely and moist, and very good for adding to the kids’ lunches; and while, okay, they are essentially cake, pumpkin is a vegetable! It’s a vegetable.

Wheat germ? Settle down, lady. Isn’t it weird when you read something you wrote not long ago and think, “Who is that?”

TUESDAY SPAGHETTI CARBONARA, GARLIC BREAD, HOT FUDGE SUNDAES

Tuesday was my daughter Clara’s birthday. (She’s having a Hobbit-themed party in a few weeks.) Spaghetti al carbonara is a magnificent dish, so easy to make, so easy to accidentally eat several gallons of. We follow the Fannie Farmer recipe. I fried up the bacon ahead of time, then disguised it in about eleven layers of tin foil and hid it in the back of the fridge with a threatening note attached. Once that was done, the rest is really quick to throw together. Really good company dish. For the sundaes, I couldn’t find hot fudge sauce at Aldi, so I made this quick chocolate sauce recipe: Mix together in a heavy pot 12 oz. of chocolate chips and 12 oz. of evaporated milk. Heat slowly while stirring until it’s all melted and smooth, then add 2 tsp. of vanilla. It turned out a little grainy, probably because I kept wandering away from the pot; but it was still rich and yummy, and the birthday girl10556926_10152488408707029_7695607588346500453_opronounced it good.

WEDNESDAY CHICKEN NUGGETS, HOT PRETZELS, ASPARAGUS

Asparagus is the natural choice for a meal like this, because you suddenly remember there is asparagus in the house, and it’s not getting any younger. Whenever my mother would serve asparagus, my father would say, “Look, kids, see how much Ima loves you? She took the time to braid each individual asparagus tip!”

ima and abba

my parents

My only other comment is that few culinary events are sadder than overcooked asparagus. It should be really crunchy when it’s done, so it doesn’t lose that nice nutty flavor. I just put a half inch of water in a pan, boil it, throw in the asparagus with a loose cover, and cook it for a few minutes, and then sprinkle some lemon juice over it. I could eat a bushel of it. Then my husband went out and bought a bag of popcorn and a bag of sugar, and then my mother-in-law came over. Then we left town!

corrie driving

ciao

And then the dress I ordered came in the mail. Humph. We managed to get to New York just before the Pope did on Thursday, then we got to Philadelphia just as the World Meeting of Families was wrapping up (I think my talk was the last one) on Friday, then we left Philadelphia just before the Pope got there on Saturday. Because that’s how we do, stuff, okay? We stopped in New Jersey and bought a solar powered waving pope and some salt water taffy for the kids, because certain three-year-olds had extracted certain promises from me before we left. I wish I could tell you more about World Meeting of Families, but I really only went to my event! No time for anything else. We didn’t even get there in time to see the vendors, and we had to leave before everything shut down completely for the Pope. Everyone I met seemed to be having a splendid time, though. Back to the food!

THURSDAY HOT DOGS, CHIPS, RAW PEPPERS and HUMMUS if you’re a kid stuck at home

I think this is what they ate.  We had some kind of overpriced pizza with tons of things on it for dinner. First pizza with anchovies on it. Tasty.

corrie hotel

Corrie settles in to her hotel bed; wonders where her parents will be sleeping.

FRIDAY RAVIOLI if you’re a kid stuck at home

Buck-a-shuck raw oysters, and then cheesesteaks, if you’re in Philly

oystersWe’d never had raw oysters before, and we weren’t super hungry yet, so we got a bunch of buck-a-shucks at some place called The Olde Somethinge. Verdict: they taste fine. They are pretty good with horseradish. No regrets, but no particular reason to ever order raw oysters again, either. (The chicken and fries were for Corrie, after the waiter tipped us off that it would be cheaper to buy her a whole kid’s meal than just fries.) Then we walked around the city for a while

You people of Philadelphia, you live like gods.

You people of Philadelphia, you live like gods.

until we got hungry enough to look for cheese steaks, which turned out to be yummy, being as they were made out of cheese and steak. Good one, Philadelphia!

yummy little cheesesteak

yummy little cheesesteak

SATURDAY I dunno. Pretty sure people ate things.

meal plan (1)So, Philadelphia! We briefly met some wonderful people, caught glimpses of some gorgeous neighborhoods, and had the impression that it’s an awesome place. I heard someone speaking Spanish with an Australian accent, and watched some Franciscan friars in patched robes patiently, kindly engage a sweaty man with a giant “NEW ‘CHURCHES’ ARE CORRUPT” protest banner. After driving seven hours with a screaming baby who somehow didn’t need to sleep at all that night, and arguing with a front desk clerk who insisted that our room wasn’t paid for, and getting on the wrong train repeatedly, and going to the wrong door repeatedly, and then ending up in the wrong building, and calling people who said they could be called for help, and hearing that their voice mailbox was full, we found ourselves dashing around the Convention Center, which is the size of Rhode Island, trying to figure out where, if anywhere, my credentials were. Seeing our plight, a woman came up and said, “I’m from Philadelphia. Want some help?” She then walked us alllll over the place until she delivered us to the right spot, pointed out the best-stocked bathroom, and disappeared. If I get to Heaven and my guardian angel has her face, I won’t be surprised. Here’s a few pictures my husband took during my speech while he held the baby (him holding the baby was kind of a theme that weekend):wmof 3  That is Bishop Gainer of Harrisburg, much-beloved of his flock.wmof 2Here is where the audience’s attention started to wander, so I just started singing show tunes:wmof show tunes  And here I am on the street afterward, suddenly realizing that I’d rather get Pennsylvania Hookworm than spend another second in those heels:wmof shoes off  Oh, one more: Here is us finally meeting Tom McDonald, who was covering the event for the Register. Corrie could not take her eyes off his hair:wmof with tomWhew! What a week. Then we came home and went shopping so we could eat this week, too, and then watched one of the Pope’s speeches*, and picked the grapes before they withered on the vine, and even caught the lunar eclipse. All Hail my mother-in-law, Helen Mary, who kept everyone happy, healthy, and whole while we were gone; and all hail to my husband, for making the crazy drive and dealing with that crazy baby and crazy me, and carrying a million bags all over creation. He even took a picture of my eyeliner so I would believe him when he said it wasn’t smudged. I think I’ll skip the link-up this week. Let’s do this again on Friday! *** *Me: We’re going to listen to the Pope’s speech now.
Irene: What if I don’t understand all the words he uses?
Me: Just keep listening. Anyway, he’s not one to use really big, fancy, complicated words, like . . . like . .
Irene: Like “metamorphosis”?
Me: Yeah. Wait. Irene, you know what metamorphosis means.
Irene: Oh, yeah.

Off to Philadelphia!

World Meeting of Families-SM

Hope to see you there!

My speech is Friday at 11:45. The official title is “Go Forth: Evangelization and the Global Community” but the title of the talk I’m actually giving is: “Swimming in the Dark: Spreading the Good News When You’re Feeling So Bad.”

Here’s a nice eyewitness account from my sister Devra, who was at Mass with the Pope in DC yesterday. And if you haven’t heard it yet, he stopped in to visit the Little Sisters of the Poor. A nice counterpoint to Obama’s classless choice of dissident Catholic guests as a welcoming committee.

Okay, wish us luck! It’s going to be a long drive with an angry baby, but I know it’s going to be wonderful once we get there. If you’ve written to me and haven’t heard back, I’ve been kind of hung up on preparations and sick kids, so I hope to get caught up on correspondence next week. Thanks for your patience.

Blessed Are the Useless

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This is the connection that we need to hear over and over again: we’re not here, in this world, to get ahead. We’re not here to prove how useful we are, and we’re not here to use other people. We’re not beloved by God because of how useful we are to Him! We’re useless. We’re beloved in our uselessness, because God is too big to fit into a simple equation of cost and benefit, debits and credits, loss and gain. We’re beloved because we exist, and that’s it. And if we want to meet God, we will find Him in service to others who can do nothing for us, because He came here in service to us, who can do nothing for Him.

Read the rest at the Register. 

***

What’s for supper? Vol. 5: Shut up, bouillon cubes. You don’t know me.

whats for supper

First, I just wanted to check in with you guys, because I worry.

The last thing I wanted to do was make one more place on the internet where women go to feel bad. That’s not what these posts are, are they? It was just supposed to be a place to talk about food: the triumphs, the tragedies, the baloney sandwiches. Not a place to feel bad!

If you don’t feel like listing/aren’t capable of remembering/are too ashamed to admit what you ate this week, here’s a quick way to participate, without even going into your weekly menu:

 

FOOD QUESTION OF THE WEEK

What is the kitchen task you absolutely hate, whether there’s a good reason or not?

Me? I hate unwrapping bouillon cubes. Maybe it’s because if I’m making some kind of meal that requires broth, I feel like it should be quick and easy because I’m cheating by using bouillon cubes; but it’s impossible to unwrap ten bitsy little cubes quickly, and I resent every last second of it.

The solution is, of course, to buy powdered bouillon, but I don’t want to, okay?
The other solution is . . . BENNY!

food blog bouillon
Benny loves to unwrap bouillon cubes. I recommend getting a Benny of your own. In other news, this is the week I finally started going to therapy, because I’ve decided that forty years of getting overwhelmed by things like unwrapping bouillon cubes is about enough. (Probably doesn’t help that my mug says “Looks like it’s time to hang it up!” Shut up, mug. You don’t know me.)

And now, onto the weekly menu.

 

SATURDAY
CHICKEN SHAWARMA; FRIED EGGPLANT WITH YOGURT SAUCE; ROOT BEER FLOATS

When Iron Man says, “I don’t know what shawarma is, but I’ve always wanted to try it,” I thought, “Me, neither. And ME TOO!”

Most days, I’m the lady in black tights mopping up (except that I never mop), but this Saturday, we all got to be the Avengers.

Oh, the shawarma. You guys, it was easy to make, and it was one of those foods that makes you feel like your head is going to fall off because it just can’t handle this level of deliciousness, but you pull yourself together because you made ten pounds of it but it’s going fast.

food blog shawarma

I was so disappointed in how this picture turned out. It just looks like food lying on a plate. The reality was . . . so much more.

I used this recipe from the New York Times Cooking page: Oven-Roasted Chicken Shawarma. True shawarma is meat roasted on a spit, but it’s hard to imagine it tasting any better than this. I didn’t have any tumeric, but the internet tells me you can live without tumeric, and so we did.

The recipe for fried eggplant, it turns out, is basically this: Take some eggplant, and fry it. For a few more details, here’s the recipe I used, from “Almost Turkish Recipes.”
The sauce for the eggplant, which was also great on the shawarma, was plain yogurt with some mayonnaise mixed in, plus fresh garlic and lemon juice.

I had to restrain myself from buying anything that looked delicious and vaguely middle eastern, but I settled for several kinds of olives, chopped cucumbers, triangles of pita, and a hummus party tray from Aldi. It really could have used some feta cheese, and something with tomatoes to go with all the spicy, savory and creamy stuff. Either just tomatoes, or a tomato-based sauce.

We were a little baffled about dessert. Something authentic would probably have involved dates or sesame seeds, and no one was too enthusiastic about that. So we went with root beer floats. Perfect.

This is definitely going on the rotation. It’s fairly time-consuming (especially since I had ten pounds of chicken thighs to skin, bone, and trim), and you need to plan ahead to marinate everything, and the side dishes got pricey in large quantities; but everyone loved it, and in would be fantastic for a dinner party. We ate every last scrap.

 

SUNDAY
MEATBALL SUBS WITH FRIED ONIONS; SALAD; ICE CREAM

Saturday was one of those “I’m glued to the steering wheel” days, so I threw theFannie Farmer meatball recipe at my 14-year-old daughter and her friend, and they did a great job turning five pounds of meat into 80 meatballs, which we served on rolls with jarred sauce and fried onions. Fried green peppers would have been good, too, but we ran out of time.

food blog meatballs and onions

Rather than frying up the meatballs, I put them on broiler pans and cook them at 400. It’s much easier and faster if you’re making a lot, and the grease drains off, and you don’t fill the kitchen with smoke. They also keep their round shape, which is important to me for some reason.

food blog meatballs

If you are feeling ambitious, the greatest meatball recipe in all the world is from Henry Hill from Goodfellas. Damien makes these sometimes, and they are heavenly, assuming heaven involves meatballs, which it does.

 

MONDAY
HAM; MASHED POTATOES; STRING BEANS

Great make-ahead dinner. Already-cooked ham was 89 cents a pound, so I bought a big one and sliced it up ahead of time and put it in a casserole dish to be reheated. Made about eight pounds of mashed potatoes and put that in another casserole dish to be reheated. Two bags of frozen string beans, and you have a dinner that looks like dinner is supposed to look, even though I was on the radio at dinner hour.

A nice way to cook string beans is to steam them, then toss with pepper, lemon juice, and sliced almonds. Easy and delicious.

 

TUESDAY
CHICKEN BURGERS, CHIPS, SALAD

This is a “You guys go eat, Mama’s going to go lie down and let the baby hit me in the face for a while” meal. Does the trick.

mama and corrie are tired

 

WEDNESDAY
BEEF BARLEY SOUP; BEER BREAD

Because it’s fall, so we can have soup! 87 degrees, but still, fall!

I make soup all wrong, but I don’t care. Also, I used steak instead of stew meat, because it was cheaper. To satisfy my thrill-seeking gene, I play fast and loose with rules about cuts of meat.

Basic beef barley soup recipe:

2 lbs beef
two carrots
one large onion
six cloves of garlic
two small cans of diced tomatoes
3/4 cup wine
eight cups of beef broth
red wine
about a pound of mushrooms
2/3 cup uncooked barley

I diced the meat and threw it in a heavy pan with some olive oil, diced onions, diced carrots, and crushed garlic.
When the meat was almost done, I put it in a pot, and added a bunch of beef broth, some water, two cans of diced tomatoes with the juice, and a few glugs of wine, plus sliced mushrooms, then let it simmer all day.
About 40 minutes before dinner, I added the barley, then seasoned it before serving.

Remember, barley isn’t like rice or pasta — it needs extra time to get tender. This soup is also great with farro, or you could add small pasta, like orzo, or even rice.
This does NOT need extra salt, because the broth is salty; but lots of pepper and maybe some red pepper flakes are nice. You could also add celery, string beans, or whatever vegetables you have lurking about.

food blog beer bread

Here’s the recipe for beer bread. This turns out great every single time. I mixed the dry ingredients ahead of time, and added the beer right before it was time to put in the oven, so it felt like it took no time at all to make.

Benny saw me pour a half cup of butter over the batter, and said, “Oh, dat is beautiful.” Dat’s my girl.

 

THURSDAY
TERIYAKI PORK STIR FRY OF GUILT; RICE

Another “Mama’s dying; here’s some meat” day. This time, one of my other teenage daughters saved the day.
Slice up a bunch of pork, saute it, drain the juice, steam a bunch of frozen veggies, mix them together with some bottled teriyaki sauce, and serve with white rice.

food blog stir fry

She took this picture. Is it just me, or do those fancy-cut carrots look like they’re looking down on me? Shut up, carrots. You don’t know me.

 

FRIDAY
TUNA BURGERS, CHIPS or FROZEN FRIED; ONE VERY TIRED SALAD

This is what’s on the menu today.

Tuna burger recipe:
One can of tuna, drained, plus half a cup of bread crumbs and one beaten egg.
Mix together, form into two patties, fry in a little oil.

Dense and serviceable; suitable as bachelor chow. I’m sure you can fancy this up in some way with chives or what have you, but I’ll let you figure that out.

***
I noticed that last week, the InLinz link-up didn’t include thumbnails, and you had to click through to see other links. That’s what I get for not reading the fine print. Should be fixed now! Thanks to everyone who forged ahead and left a link anyway. I am really enjoying these windows into other people’s kitchens. Because I like to look into other people’s windows. Shut up, you don’t know me!

Leave a comment or a link, and don’t forget to link back here! And don’t let the bouillon cubes get you down. They don’t know you.

A church of oddballs

smile mask

The woman is wrong if she thinks that a great church means a place where atheists and agnostics and Christians should be able to just hang out and be awesome together. (We already have that: it’s called Starbucks.) But she is painfully right when she reminds us that, in too many places, Christian churches are places where you have the choice of being fake or leaving.
Read the rest at the Register.